


Hell or High Water

by Bayyvon



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Human AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:21:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27966734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bayyvon/pseuds/Bayyvon
Summary: Bella had never had to depend on anyone but herself, until now.
Relationships: Carlisle Cullen/Bella Swan
Kudos: 27





	1. Safety

“What have you got?” Carlisle asked as the ambulance doors swung open, and the techs began to unload the cot that dropped its wheeled legs with a mechanical whir to the concrete of the loading bay. 

“Female, 21, two car 10-50, broken ribs 4-7, tib-fib in both legs, lost consciousness at the scene, driver was CAO, behind us.” The female technician seemed reluctant to leave the girl, so Carlisle prompted her to tell him all she could. “She wasn’t ejected, but the lac on her head could mean she hit the windshield, the car was totaled on her side, she took alotta the impact.”

The girl who lay on the gurney had bruises blooming across her delicate pale features,  _ the impact of the airbag must have caused those,  _ Carlisle considers as he walks alongside the trauma staff, assessing her with his eyes. Her legs were splinted, bones peeked from where her jeans were split by EMS. Her torso was mottled where it flashed from beneath her torn, bloody T-shirt. He was thankful, for her sake, that she wasn’t awake. Carlisle removed the light from his scrub pocket, and lifted one of her lids back, and then the other. In the soil brown of her eyes flickered the image of his Esme. Her pupils were a little dilated, but responsive.  _ A concussion? We’ll have to scan her to be sure…  _ The attendings were loading her into the elevator and paging for OR prep when a commotion made Carlisle pause. 

“ _ Bella?  _ **_Bella?!_ ** _ ”  _ Came a strangled cry, an anguish ridden man that he recognized at once as he came careening around the corner. Police Chief Swan. This must be his daughter, then. Bella. He let loose a gut wrenching sob, and it made Carlisle’s own heart lurch and he thought then of his children. 

“Chief Swan.” A nurse sidearms him before he can make it past the medbay, and before the elevator doors slide closed, Carlisle hears him choke “ _ CARLISLE, YOU HELP HER!”  _

It was more than enough to kick him into overdrive, senses heightening as he took her in again. 

She was bleeding profusely from her left leg. And her breathing had turned wet, and shallow. He hoped she hadn’t punctured a lung, but from the sound alone, Carlisle was nearly sure she had. 

Her scans had come back (“ _ rush them Page, this is the Chief’s daughter,” _ ) and confirmed his fear. Her lung had been struck. Only 3 of her ribs had broken, but the fractures in her legs were what really had him pacing back and forth, X-ray in hand as he watched his team prep. One had completely shattered. Bone fragments looked like sparks radiating from the impact point, and some were creeping up her knees. He wasn’t entirely sure if their orthopedist  _ could  _ put it back together. It made him ill, to think a girl so young might lose function this way. He had to  **_try._ ** Come hell or high water, Bella Swan would walk again. 

OR 4 was bustling with activity, anesthesiologist Maryann setting up in the corner, surgeons scrubbing in and waiting, attendings and residents watching him with an intense gaze from the galley above. He was drawn again to her face, so pallid in the bright lights, nearly translucently pale, intubated and lined with IVs and he prayed, silently as he tied on his skullcap. 

_ Please, God, let me save her.  _


	2. Guilt

“Oh, Bella,” Angela had been pacing back and forth in the waiting room for what felt like ages, waiting for any kind of news, tears tracking fresh waves down her face every time she replayed the motions of the accident. “Please—“ A deep guilt engulfed her. This had been her fault. Bella was in critical condition —-the words alone made Angela’s gut twist and she knew then she’d never forgive herself for this— her childhood best friend could have died because of _her_. 

_“Bella? **Bella**?!” _

The sound of Charlie howling made her guilt twist deeper, and she ambled blearily toward the familiar voice. 

“Charlie?” Angela sees the doors slide closed on the bloody shoes she knew belonged to Bella. The white treads were now a deep red and it nearly knocked the wind out of her. “Charlie, I’m so sorry—“

Her voice breaks as Bella’s father gathers her into a hug, sniffling into her hair. “It wasn’t your fault,” he croaks, rubbing her back as she broke down into his chest. “It wasn’t your fault, Angela. You hear me?”

She nods numbly, and lets him lead her back to the waiting room where they sit together quietly, anxiously awaiting news. 

******

  
  


Carlisle sighs, having turned her, now thankfully stable and tubed, over to the ortho who had been working tirelessly on piecing her lower left leg back together. 

The ribs were clean breaks, easily fixed, but that leg….

He decided it was time to see Chief Swan, ease the poor man’s mind after hours of torturous waiting. An attending said he had a message from his son, and he checked it as he rode the elevator to the lobby. 

_Alice made dinner, she’ll be with Jasper tonight._

_“I’ll be in late, Edward. Try and get some rest.”_

  
  


Carlisle slides his phone back into his pocket and crosses out of the elevator and into the wide waiting area. Angela Webber, daughter of the minister, was snuffling into a crumple of tissues. Her crying had stopped, but her worry was written from her tight, furrowed brow to her raw, abused lip. She’d been chewing the small glass cut she had arrived with. 

Charlie Swan had his back to Carlisle, staring vacantly into the vending machine, as if hoping the stale gum and expired potato chips held some kind of deep truth about the condition of his only child. 

Carlisle politely clears his throat, and the chief nearly snaps his neck to look. 

“How—“

“Stable, finally. She’s a fighter. I’ve turned her over to my best ortho for that leg,” Charlie sucks in a hard breath at this, to which Carlisle backs him off, and reassures “She’s in excellent hands, Chief. I would trust Dr. Gillian with my own children, in fact I have.”

“Thank you,” the dark haired man chokes, and returns to his seat. 

Angela speaks up then, voice rough. “You’ll keep…. checking, right?”

“Of course, I’ll be sure to keep an eye on her.”

Chief Swan works out a mangled sigh, and Angela once again begins to breathe normally. 


End file.
